Good Night, Sweetheart
by velted
Summary: After a long day of traveling and finally reaching the border into the BLU's territory, the RED Medic does a routine check on his comrades... and the RED Soldier.


"Zere you go."

"Heh. Thanks, doc!" Scout said with a grin as he stretched his left arm a little before relaxing and letting it flop to his side.

Medic nodded in response and proceeded to keep his equipment into his bag. "Now, all zat is left is Soldat..." He looked to Scout, an eyebrow quirked in question. "Where is he?"

Scout turned, looked into a distance and nodded towards it. "Right over there. He is with his cardboard friends again." Medic sighed softly, in both understanding and slight exhaustion.

"Danke." He stood up and Scout scampered off to where the rest of the RED team was. He grabbed his bag and started towards where he could see a campfire, on a small cliff overlooking the BLU's territory. It was just right along the border. Soldier is insane, exposing himself like that. But nobody bothered to tell off the most stubborn man on the team, he had always been resolute in everything he does.

Braving the strong night wind, he slowly made his way up there. He probably should have brought his coat along but he didn't really want to make his way back down again after coming this far. He just wanted this to be over with quickly and finally get some rest. As he neared, he could make out the three life-sized cutouts of random soldier men. Soldier was speaking to them – he spoke of past wars and experiences, of being absolutely fearless...

At one point, Soldier visibly stiffened and Medic knew he had become aware of his presence.

"Soldat, I am here to do a short check."

"Cupcake?" Soldier called out, turning around now to face him. He still had his ridiculously large helmet on – ridiculously large for him anyway, considering it covered nearly half his face – and Medic sometimes wondered how Soldier could possibly see, much less aim, with the helmet over his eyes.

"Ja." he answered with an air of indifference. He was used to Soldier calling him such names by now. It had been a little odd at first but overtime, he learnt not to dwell too much on it. Soldier, who was still holding onto his shotgun, tilted his helmet up just by the slightest with the gun's barrel. For that fraction of a second, Medic caught sight of his dark blue eyes before the helmet fell over them again. "Put down your gun."

Soldier hesitated for a moment, staring at Medic in silence and although he couldn't see his eyes, he could feel the intense gaze piercing through even the tough material of his headgear.

"Soldat."

"All right," Soldier finally said and then turned to his cardboard cutouts. Medic only now noticed that one of it had a tear in its arm. The truck must have jerked around too violently earlier during their road trip. "It won't take long, my men."

For someone who had the stubborness rivalling that of a mule, he was being extremely obedient. Although, it was most likely because he was taught to listen to a doctor. He wouldn't be surprised really, if that was actually the reason.

"Your shotgun."

"Oh, right." Medic could imagine him blinking, before he carefully placed his weapon down onto the ground.

"Now roll up both your sleeves and hold out your left arm."

Soldier seemed a little reluctant again. "Is this going to hurt?"

"I am just going to take your blood pressure. I need to make sure zat your heart is not causing you any problems."

Soldier nodded, his helmet following that movement, and he rolled up his sleeves and bared his arms for him. Medic took out the sphygmomanometer from his equipment bag and took the blood pressure of his left arm. Soldier was staring again – he could tell – but this time at his hands working on his arm.

Medic attempted to make small talk in the process. "Why are you not with ze rest of them?"

Soldier tilted his head. He could tell without looking. Helmets were not exactly the most silent of headwear. "I need to stand patrol here and make sure that no one from the BLU team sneaks past the border while the rest of them are asleep."

Medic momentarily felt sorry for Soldier. His good intentions had all along been misinterpreted as madness by the rest of the team. Although, he couldn't blame anyone – Soldier does act like a maniac on the battlefield.

"You are a dummkopf." Medic muttered under his breath. He took the pressure of his other arm, and everything looked all right. He nodded to himself and removed the equipment from Soldier.

"Dumm–... What?"

"–kopf. Anyway, it's done."

Soldier just nodded. "What is a dummkopf?"

"I am not telling you."

"May I guess?"

"Nein." Medic replied curtly, fully expecting the American to retaliate by saying he does what he wants. The man does have quite a strange fondness for guessing games... Not that he was very good at it.

"Okay." Soldier murmured in response and tilted his head down, as if in disappointment. Medic stared at him in a brief moment of shock. Such a submissive Soldier was almost unheard of. Frowning, he reached out and grabbed tightly at his arm – just to make sure that he was really the RED Soldier and not the BLU Spy in disguise. And although he still couldn't see his eyes, he could make out Soldier's surprised expression from the shape of his mouth.

"Just checking to see zat you are not the BLU spy." He declared before letting go so he could keep his equipment back into his bag. Soldier said nothing and merely turned to his cardboard men again, eyes resting on the one with the torn arm. Medic said nothing else either and stood up, preparing to leave.

Just when he was about to take the first step, Soldier stopped him.

"Hey Sally?"

He turned to address the man. "Ja, Soldat?"

Soldier looked between him and the cardboard soldier. "Can you help Salty Pete fix up his arm?"

Medic opened his mouth, about to say no, but stopped and found himself nodding softly twice. Soldier seemed genuinely pleased as he walked over, reaching into his bag for a roll of medical tape to patch up the torn area.

"Zere you go," he said, before adding in for good measure. "Salty Pete."

Soldier was grinning so widely that Medic was a little worried he might crack the corners of his mouth.

"Thanks, doc."

A sigh. "No problem."

Soldier nodded and turned back to his cardboard men once more. He didn't start rambling like he had been before and just remained silent, staring at the bits of ashes as it danced off the tips of the flame. Just like that – he looked lonely. Medic shook his head and merely shrugged it off. A particularly strong breeze blew past and he sneezed, causing Soldier to look up to him.

He waved a hand dismissively. "It's fi–..." But before he could finish, a weight rested on his shoulders. He turned around to face Soldier, who was now without his coat and giving a few pats to his right shoulder.

Soldier feigned a few coughs. Never had been the one for acting, that man. "It'd be bad and ironic if the doctor falls sick," was his reasoning before he made his way back to where he previously sat. Medic stared at him for a few moments before he smiled – truly smiled, something that he didn't do very often – and pulled the coat tighter around him. He walked over to sit beside the soldier, nonchalant to the look he was giving him.

"We can take turns keeping watch," he said and rested his back against the large boulder just behind them. Soldier lets out a huff, there was a hint of amusement behind it, and averted his gaze back to the fire. Both of them said nothing more and in the silence, Medic closed his eyes and finally got his much needed rest.

Just before slumber overtook him, he could hear a familiar, rough voice saying:

"Good night, sweetheart."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Hello, and thank you for reading! I usually avoid having to write an A/N but I just wanted to say that this is the first fanfiction I have ever written for Team Fortress 2 and if you have any constructive criticisms (especially in regards to the characterisations), please don't hesitate to give them as I'd like to hear it and improve on my writing. Thank you once again.


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